The Strings of Murder (27 page)

‘First of all, we want to express our sympathy,’ McGray said. ‘We learned how close youse were to this laddie.’

Mrs Caroli looked down for one moment, and her expression was enough for me to realize the full extent of
their sorrow – within days they’d lost their two best friends in town. I felt for them more than I thought I would.

‘Also, we wanna talk to you and yer husband,’ McGray went on, and Caroli approached us right then.

‘Good evening, Inspectors. More questions about Fontaine?’ he asked.

‘Not quite,’ McGray said. ‘May we speak in private? It’s very important.’

Caroli led us into a small study adjacent to the main parlour, his wife following us. We were but a few steps from the door when a heavy hand pressed upon my shoulder.

‘Inspector Frey!’

I turned around to find that it was Alistair Ardglass.

‘Oh Lord!’ was my rather sickened reaction. I could not help wrinkling my nose as if smelling dung, but the man smiled stupidly all the same.

‘Inspector Frey, it is so good to see you. I must deliver a message from my dear aunt –’

‘Not now, Mr Ardglass,’ I replied curtly. McGray and the Carolis had already stepped into the study, so I followed them and promptly shut the door behind me.

‘What can we do for you?’ Mrs Caroli asked again, leaving her Bible on a desk. I had a quick glance round the darkened room: it was a rather small, cosy study with a homely fireplace, its walls lined with bookcases utterly crammed with volumes of all sizes and subjects. I recognized titles on astronomy, chemistry, history and mathematics. It was what McGray’s library might have looked like, were it tidy. Some of the furniture had been crammed there to make room for the coffin; I recognized the finely carved wooden gondola.

‘Your carvings are excellent, Mr Caroli’ I said.

Caroli blinked. ‘I beg your pardon?’

I pointed at the gondola. ‘Those carvings. You never told us you made those yourself.’

Caroli took a step towards the piece and touched it gently. ‘So … ’ow did you know I made them?’

‘Your luthier, that Mr Fiddler. He fixed a lion head to the Amati violin. He told us that you gave it to the late Mr Fontaine as a gift.’

‘My husband likes to give his carvings to friends,’ Mrs Caroli intervened. ‘Not long ago he also gave Wood a little trinket box.’

I nodded, remembering that box. Elgie had indeed said that whoever had carved it must have had a good knowledge of violins.

‘That lion head seems like a very personal present,’ I remarked.

‘Oh, yes,’ she said. ‘Guilleum was very dear to us. He was dejected when he told us that his violin had broken, so Danilo made that lion head to cheer him up. I don’t know why, but I believe it was his favourite instrument.’

‘Which is precisely what we came to talk about,’ McGray said, lifting the case and tossing the cloth aside. ‘This is the Amati fiddle. Mr Wood wanted youse to have it.’

There was a gasp. For a moment they all stood so still that I thought I could be looking at a photograph: McGray holding the worn-out, bloodstained violin case with his spoiled hand, Caroli and his wife as stiff as posts, their faces utterly distressed.

Caroli extended a hand, but right before his fingers touched the case he faltered.

‘I’m not sure I want this,’ he muttered. His wife stepped closer to him and whispered something in Italian.

Their perplexed eyes left no room for doubt: they had never wanted the violin.

‘Why not?’ McGray asked. ‘It’s legally yers.’

Caroli shook his head, almost absent minded. ‘Guilleum first … and then Theodore …’ he mumbled.

McGray leaned towards him and spoke softly. ‘D’ye believe in the violin’s curse? D’ye believe that the Devil touched this?’ He was not done talking when Mrs Caroli jumped in front of her husband and grabbed the violin case. I am sorry to admit I wished she’d kept her fingers on the Bible, for as soon as she let go of the book I caught an eerie glimpse of protruding knuckles and misshapen phalanxes through her black gloves. We could even hear her crunching bones when she grasped the case handle.

‘Excuse me, Inspector! This is not a time to talk about curses and fiends – our good friend’s body is still in this house! If you need any information with urgency we will of course answer your questions, but if you came only to discuss who inherits this instrument, I believe that can wait.’

‘Do ye believe in the curse?’ McGray reiterated. His stare only softened when Mrs Caroli pressed her belly with a shaking hand.

Mr and Mrs Caroli stared hard at each other for an instant. Neither uttered a word. Their nervous silence, however, could not have been more eloquent. They did believe in the curse, and were thus reluctant to accept the violin.

‘I’m sorry if I disturbed youse,’ McGray said at last. ‘Do ye mind if we pay our respects to Mr Wood?’

Mrs Caroli simply looked at her husband.

‘Of course you can,’ Caroli said, taking the case from his wife’s hands and placing it on the desk. ‘Follow us, please.’

He opened the door and gently pressed a hand on Mrs Caroli’s shoulder, pushing her ahead of us.

‘Please excuse my wife,’ he whispered, so that only McGray and I could hear. ‘She’s been under a lot of strain; you know … these deaths and our first baby … also …’

‘We understand,’ McGray said, patting his back. I thought that Caroli was going to lead our way, but he simply melded into the crowd.

‘I am not sure where you were trying to go with that,’ I muttered.

‘It never hurts ye to know where people’s beliefs stand.’

We walked slowly towards the coffin. More than paying our respects to the wretched man, our real motivation was to simply observe the scene.

‘How long do you reckon we should stay?’ I asked.

‘Not long. I doubt we’ll find much more here.’

As we walked to the open coffin I heard someone calling my name, and had to lower my gaze to find Downs coming hastily towards us. Alistair Ardglass came behind him, apparently in the middle of an inner struggle: eager to talk to me, yet terribly unnerved by McGray’s presence.

‘Inspector Frey!’ he said at last. ‘Pray, are you free to talk now? I shall only steal a few minutes of your precious time.’

‘Take all ye need,’ McGray said, rapidly stepping away.

Ardglass cleared his throat. ‘Oh, that Nine-Nails McGray … time after time he proves he is as rude a drunk as a –’

‘You said that you’d only steal a few minutes,’ I interrupted.

‘Oh, but of course. I only need to tell you that my niece is coming back to town.’

‘Why should that be of any interest to me?’

Downs jumped in. ‘You asked me to keep you well informed about all the violins of Monsieur Fontaine. Do you remember that the last instrument, the Guadagnini, is still in my possession? Miss Ardglass is to inherit it, but I recall you wished to be present when she received it.’

I had completely forgotten that last violin. There was a hint of bitterness in the face of Ardglass, which also reminded me of his frustration at not having been included in Fontaine’s will. He tried in vain to conceal this bitterness as he spoke.

‘Coincidentally, tomorrow night my aunt is throwing a ball to welcome her, and she – as well as my dear niece – would be most delighted to have you there. It would be a most proper chance for her to receive her – inheritance.’

‘How appropriate,’ I muttered. I could judge the reactions of Fontaine’s last heiress and also have a word with the infamous Lady Ardglass, all during one party. ‘Well, I …’

‘Yes, I know this is a very rushed invitation,’ Ardglass said hurriedly, ‘but her arrival was totally unexpected. Of course, you are welcome to bring your brother if you wish.’

I arched my eyebrows. ‘How did you know that my brother is in town?’

‘Oh, Edinburgh is not as big as London, Inspector;
news travels fast here, especially to so well-connected a family as mine. It would be excellent for the boy to be introduced to Edinburgh’s good society.’

I blew inside my cheeks. That pretentious, provincial bourgeois trying to give me lessons on good society!

‘Evidently,’ was my composed answer.

‘So … may I confirm your presence to Lady Anne?’

I simply nodded and Ardglass gave me another of his cards with the address and time. Both he and Downs made an exaggerated reverence and walked away.

‘How pathetically servile,’ I muttered. As soon as they left, McGray joined me.

‘It looked as if you ran away from the arrogant oaf …’ I said. McGray responded with an extremely vulgar remark – which I would rather not transcribe – and then I told him about the invitation.

‘Och! Ye’ll have a mighty good time in that nest o’ serpents!’

‘I think it will be a good time to ask Lady Glass about her dealings with the victims too.’

As we finally reached the coffin, McGray stroked his stubble. I suddenly became aware of how out of place he looked; his tartan waistcoat and trousers amidst a crowd of mourners in black.

‘Aye, I think ye should go. But I won’t go with ye.’

‘Why not?’

‘What? Will ye miss my company?’

‘Surely; as much as I would miss a thorn in my nether regions. I simply think that you should not let your personal quarrels with this family get in the way of your professional –’

‘Oh, shush it, lassie! I’m sending ye on yer own cos I think yer pompous ways will work far better to get some information out o’ them.’

‘Well … I must concede that. Your vulgarity can make any well-mannered people uneasy …’

‘Besides, I can use that free time to go to Old Calton Cemetery.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Old Calton Cemetery. Don’t ye remember I’m also doing research on the will’-o-the-wisps?’

I let out the loudest, most scornful ‘HA!’, and everyone around turned their baffled eyes towards me.

‘How can you possibly think of such nonsense at this moment?’ I said in a low hiss. ‘We have two dead men in this case and yet not the slightest lead to the killer!’

‘It will all clear up in time,’ McGray said with such calmness, such unfounded certainty, that I even felt my hand raising, ready to slap some sense into him.

On the other hand, being able to conduct myself without McGray’s interference struck me as a great advantage. He would not be there to upset people with stupid questions about curses – as he had just done to Mrs Caroli – or wasting my time in pointless interviews with the likes of Madame Katerina.

‘I shall do as you wish,’ I concluded, this time feigning a discontented expression. ‘Can we go now?’

‘Aye. Just let me look at this chap again …’

Following McGray, I looked over the coffin to have a last glance at Wood. Despite the talent displayed by the flower arrangements, the undertaker had not done a good job on the actual corpse: the man looked ashen, the only
colour coming from his bruised fiddler’s neck and from the long wound on his face. His lashed cheek and eyebrow reminded me of that dreadful moment when I thought that the string had torn his eye.

He could not have foreseen then what was coming upon him … even if that accident with the violin had been taken as a dark omen, as McGray had thought.

In a moment of indulgence I let myself get carried away by McGray’s odd and superstitious ideas. What if that violin was truly cursed? What if Satan had really held it and his fingers had played hellish music with it? What if he had cursed not only the sonata but the instrument too?

All those were foolish thoughts, I know … but
what if
?

Suddenly, as if my gloomy meditations had summoned real ghouls, a chilling shriek came from the other side of the room.

Everyone turned towards the sound and I saw that Mrs Caroli was leaning over a chair, one hand on her belly, and slowly sinking to the floor.

Caroli ran like a gust of wind and supported her just as the woman let out another scream.

‘Move aside!’ I yelled. ‘I have medical training!’

‘But ye never graduat–’

‘Oh, shut up!’

When I was nearer I saw a dark stain spreading swiftly on Mrs Caroli’s dress. Her waters had broken.

‘
For Christ’s sake!
How long have you been in labour?’

Her face was pale and distorted. She muttered something that sounded like ‘a few hours’. No wonder she’d been hostile to us.

‘Why on earth would you not tell anybody?’ I cried.

‘One – one doesn’t speak of such things,’ she said with a panting voice.

Caroli spluttered something in Italian. He was going to fetch the doctor, or so I understood from my rudimentary Latin.

‘May you please see that she gets to ’er room?’ He said to me in an imploring tone and I could not refuse. Caroli then kissed his wife’s forehead and gave her the most affectionate, most caring look. Then he stormed out of the house, leaving an utterly confused crowd behind.

McGray and two maids came to help me lead Mrs Caroli to the stairs.

‘I must lock up the dogs!’ she cried. ‘There’ll be no one to lock them if I don’t –’

A contraction came and the poor woman almost fell on her knees. McGray held her with his thick hands and spoke firmly.

‘Mrs Caroli, with all due respect, how can ye be worried about the dogs when yer about to give birth to yer own child?’

Mrs Caroli inhaled deeply and assented. I could tell she would have retorted had she not been in such pain. She walked to the staircase obediently, but turned to me as soon as she climbed the first step.

‘May you please bring my Bible? I believe I left it in the study …’

‘Go, Frey, I have her,’ McGray said.

While he helped her upstairs I ran to the study. The Bible was still on the desk, in the exact spot where Mrs Caroli had left it when she first received us. I grabbed
it carelessly and turned around, but then the corner of my eye caught something odd in the room. I lifted my face and then my heart jumped.

The violin case was gone.